Tales from Mirkwood: The Doriath Days
by AustralianRanger012
Summary: Long before Thranduil was the King of Mirkwood, he was just one of many young elves living in the late elven kingdom of Doriath. However, looks can be deceiving, and he was not as similar to the other elves as he appeared. Takes place First Age. (Thranduil)


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story** **is purely a work of fanfiction and written for fun. However, I do own the OC's, and I ask that you don't use them in your own writing without consulting me first.**

 **Thanks to Whyamiobsessed and CoffeeRanger for reviewing chapter 2 of Aftermath!**

 **A/N**

 **The Plot Bunnies bit me with this idea to write about Thranduil arguing with his mare about a suitable stallion to breed with out-of-the-blue a couple of nights ago, and did not let go. Thinking there was no other way to justify this one-shot even existing, I indulged the Plot Bunnies, thinking it would be a short and funny one-shot.**

 **Ha ha. You'd think I'd have learnt by now that when things like this pop into my head, the PB's have other ideas. You may want to have some tissues handy with this one, it gets heavy rather quickly.**

 **So, without further ado, I present to you Tales from Mirkwood: The Doriath Days. As suggested from the title, this takes place in Doriath, when Thranduil was still young by elven standards. I feel he is very young in it, and it is pre-his first marriage. Which would take us way back to the first Age of Middle Earth, before Elu Thingol's death.**

' **A long, long time ago, in a kingdom far, far away…'**

* * *

Thranduil frowned.

"Well, what about Glamoron?"

Lennil gave him a look that clearly said what she thought of _that_ suggestion.

Thranduil threw up his hands in frustration.

"Come on! We are running out of potential partners here! There are only so many stallions in the realm, you have to pick one of them!"

The mealy-brown mare looked at the Sindar impassively.

 _What if I do not like any of them?_

"Then you are a total spoilt brat who thrives on getting on my nerves."

 _And if that is the case?_

"Then your bloodline will end when you die. I cannot _make_ you do anything Lennil, but you know as well as I do that you have very good qualities. I would like to preserve them for the future."

 _It is for that precise reason this is such a big decision to make. I must make sure whoever I choose is worthy of me._

Thranduil glared at his treasured mare.

"You really are a spoilt brat."

 _Whose fault is that?_

"Just because you are mine, and I dote on you more than what is probably healthy, does not mean you have to make this so difficult! You will die one day Lennil, while I will most likely be around indefinitely. If I cannot have you, then I would like to have your son or daughter, and their descendants."

There was no reply to that, and Thranduil sighed wearily. He'd been out here for hours arguing with Lennil, trying to convince her that there had to be at least _one_ stallion in the herds whom she wouldn't mind mating with.

Earlier today, when Oropher had told Thranduil he could use any stallion in the realm he liked to breed his treasured mare, the young noble had immediately raced out to the stable to ask Lennil whom she would like. The thought of having her in-foal to the cream-coloured Glamoron, smoky-grey Hithuon, or the beautiful black Hannor, had excited him no end. He had already been imagining what her foal would look like, and wondering if it would be male or female.

He'd told the exciting news to Lennil, and her reaction had led to their current situation. While Thranduil hadn't been able to decide which of the stallions he would like a foal from, Lennil had simply decided she didn't like any of them. And was been very vocal about it.

Not that anyone but Thranduil could hear her.

While all elves were close to nature, they couldn't communicate directly with animals. Especially not on a level where they used proper language constructs, and did not just go on the animal's moods or emotions.

But Thranduil wasn't like other elves. While he looked, acted and sounded like an elf, he was half-Maia. His mother had been one of these spirits, though Thranduil had never seen her in anything other than an elven form. It was for this reason few people were aware she hadn't been an elf. Even less were aware Thranduil wasn't fully elven. It had been kept a great secret by both his parents for reasons that Thranduil had never been fully told about.

Due to this mixed-blood, Thranduil had certain abilities that went far beyond those any normal elf was capable of. In addition to being able to directly communicate with animals and have complete conversations with them, he could heal virtually any wound or sickness that ailed elves, mortals, or animals. He could create illusions with his mind, making people think they saw and even felt things that weren't there. It also worked the other way; it was just as easy to make things disappear from someone's sight at will. Of course, the object was still there when this happened. It just couldn't be seen by anyone but Thranduil, and those he wanted to see it.

Using these abilities, Thranduil could completely disorientate anyone he pleased at any time while convincing them of seeing, hearing, or feeling things that weren't real. He could use this same ability to hide himself if he did not wish for anyone to take notice of him. He couldn't make himself invisible, but he could make it so he was not noticed by anyone.

Except his mother.

She had realised he'd inherited powers from her while he'd still being nursing. And, from before he could walk, she had taught him how to use them, instilling in him a deep love and respect for these powers.

They were not something to be used for evil or immoral purposes. They were precious and rare gifts that should be treated accordingly. While her time with him had been far too short, his mother had made him promise to always use his abilities wisely, and for the right reasons.

But she was long gone now, having been killed in front of him when he'd been barely eighty years of age. Being a Maia, Thranduil wasn't sure how this was even possible, but knew she'd died to protect him. Though that knowledge had not made it any easier to bear her loss. Oropher had taken his beloved's death even harder; being stuck in grief for many long years after her death.

While his mother had openly treasured him more than life itself, Oropher had always been a lot more reserved in how he showed his love. It hadn't been until after her death that Thranduil had realised his father loved him just as much as his mother had. He just had a harder time showing it.

Thranduil had never been overly close to his father. He still wasn't, but he knew without a doubt that he was loved very deeply by the Sindar elf.

 _You okay? You have gone quiet._

Thranduil came out of his thoughts to find Lennil nudging his arm, her liquid-brown eyes showing great concern. Throwing his arms around her neck, Thranduil buried his face in her black mane. After breathing in her scent for a few moments, he nodded.

"I'm fine. Or I will be. I was just thinking about Naneth."

Lennil rested her jaw against his shoulder and upper back in a horse's version of a hug.

 _You miss her._

Thranduil nodded again.

"Yes."

Lennil was quite for a moment.

 _Is that part of the reason you are so insistent on me having a foal? Because one day you will lose me too?_

"Yes. I know they will not be you, but they will be your child. You, sadly, will not be with me for very long. But I want your legacy to be with me forever."

 _Hop up then, and let us go and have a look at some of these stallions._

Thranduil lifted his head to stare at his mare.

"You are actually going to decide on one to breed with? Finally?"

Lennil nudged him again.

 _Yes. I will. For you. And while Glamoron is most definitely off the list, I will have a look at the others._

"What is wrong with Glamoron?"

 _He is too full of himself._

"Says the mare who thinks she is too good for them all."

 _That is because I am. He has no excuse for this behaviour. Now, are you getting up, or do I have to drag you around?_

Thranduil gave in.

"Fine, you really are bossy. Has anyone ever told you that?"

 _Only you. About a thousand times._

"Since when can you count?"

 _I am not keeping count. That number is a guesstimation._

"A what?"

 _An estimated guess. A guess estimation._

"I have no idea what you are talking about. How about we just go and look at potential partners?"

 _If you say so._

Lennil said no more, but looked very smug as the two friends headed outdoors to go and find a suitable suitor for her.

* * *

 _Names of the horses._

 _Lennil – Tuneful/Sweet_

 _Hithuon – Fog_

 _Glamoron – Echo_

 _Hannor – Intelligent_

* * *

 **RIP to my own horse, Melody. She's been gone for about seven years now, and I still miss her. She used to give me hugs like I've described above, and comfort me when I was down. I did not start out to write her into this story (I did not start out to do a lot of things in this story) but she somehow turned up.**

 **This is marked as complete for now, as I have not got anything else to add. However, the PB's could easily come up with something else from Thranduil's years in Doriath at any time. Not saying they will, but if they do, I will add more chapters at a later date.**

 **Reviews would be appreciated. And, if anyone feels like suggesting a story idea, go ahead. I'm currently working on an 11-chaptered story in this universe started from a prompt, so reviews and suggestions really do work.**


End file.
